SWITCH
by singingminstrel
Summary: Hermione G. and Draco Malfoy are Switched accidentally...and now they are trapped inside each other's bodies. Hilarity ensues as Hermione tries to masquerade as the cold Draco Malfoy and Draco rather fails at trying to be Hermione.better explanation insid
1. Chapter 1

SO, this particular plot has been done many times...but I thought I'd give it a try. See if you like it. Basically, Hermione and Draco end up trapped in each other's bodies and must learn to cope with their unusual situation for at least two months...without telling anyone! They hate it and hate each other even more, but maybe, just maybe, they'll learn a few things about each other that will bring them closer (well, of course, this is a romantic pairing).

It was a chilly morning in December when Hermione Granger stirred in her bed. It was Sunday, and although there were no classes, she woke up around eight-thirty.

"Mmmm…" she murmured, stretching her limbs and getting ready to roll out of bed. Her throat sounded a bit rough. Perhaps it was all the cheering from the previous night's Quidditch match and the dormitory celebrations that had ensued; Gryffindor had had a neat victory over Hufflepuff.

But what she wasn't prepared for was another murmur that answered her own. The voice belonged to a warm body that Hermione consciously realized was snuggled next to her in her own bed.

Hermione spent about half her nights in her Head Girl room, and half in the Gryffindor Tower, so it wasn't unusual that she woke up to the voices of a bunch of girls. It was sometimes lonely, after six academic years of living with your fellow classmates, to sleep in a single room all the time.

She opened on eye. "Ginny?"

_Smack!_ Hermione didn't know what, or rather who, had hit her, but suddenly she was left with a handprint on her cheek and birdies floating around her head.

"God, that's the fourth time! The fourth time that you say another girl's name instead of mine after we've spent a night together!" the voice next to her screeched, and Hermione, though still dazed, registered that Pansy Parkinson was screaming in her ear.

"Huhh?"

"Is that all you can say? You apologize this instant!" Pansy demanded. All Hermione could think of was how Pansy was wearing a skimpy red nightie and how angry she looked. Why was she dressed that way, anyhow? The situation was ridiculous.

Hermione didn't trust herself to speak, but instead slithered out of her bed. Pansy did the same, and suddenly it occurred to Hermione that she was standing in a room with forest green walls. Her own walls were white with scarlet chair rails. She also noticed the curtains that afforded each girl in the room privacy in her own four-poster were now green, in fact, and not scarlet. What was going on?

Before Hermione could piece the rest of the puzzle together, Pansy was obscuring her view, hands on her hips and scowling.

Then Hermione realized she was almost a foot taller than Pansy.

Pansy was petite, but Hermione couldn't be so much taller.

She racked her brain and tried to think of a logical reason why she was so tall. Had she mistakenly taken any Fast Gro potions? Could someone have slipped something into her drink as a joke?

She was amused for the moment to think that this must be what Hagrid felt like all the time; he was always looking down upon everyone.

She was yanked back to the present as her eyes returned to Pansy. What _was_ she doing here?

She hadn't realized she'd spoken the question aloud, but now Pansy was yelling again.

"What do you mean, _What am _I_ doing here?_?!! Why are you always so selfish and act like I don't mean anything? This is the _last time_ you treat me like this! I _mean_ it! No more nice, _forgiving_ Pansy."

"Shut up for a minute, will you? I'm trying to think." Hermione was irritated, having woken up in the same bed as Pansy Parkinson, and still very confused.

Her brain wasn't up to scratch that morning, or she would have chosen her words more carefully. Pansy slapped her again and walked out of the room, leaving in her wake a flabbergasted and aching Hermione.

"Aughhh," she groaned, feeling her face. It hurt very much.

She could near laugher, and distinct _male_ laugher at that, within the curtains of the four-posters.

"Can't say you didn't deserve that, Draco," one voice said. "You could have been a little quieter, though. I can't go back to sleep."

"Yeah, why can't you just put a muzzle on her or something?"

Hermione froze; they all thought she was Draco Malfoy. Hadn't they heard her speaking? Well, her voice was a little hoarse, after all. She realized she had to leave the room, before anyone saw her and realized she was Hermione Granger who was stuck in the Slytherin dormitory…

She paused. Pansy had seen her; and Pansy had thought she was Draco Malfoy, she was sure. Their conversation wouldn't have made any sense otherwise.

As she traced the line of her jaw, wincing as she felt the pain of Pansy's slap, her eyes widened.

There was stubble on her chin.

Hermione Granger didn't have facial hair.

She gingerly patted her hands against her thighs. Her thighs were muscular and overly large.

She felt her bottom—much too big for her body. Unless she'd been Bertha Butt all these years, and no one had told her.

Then her hands traveled to the other side. Now her eyes were wide as saucers.

"Oh...my…God."

"Oh, she'll be back. She never stays mad for long." Blaise Zabini opened his bed curtains and chuckled, looking at Hermione as if there was nothing in the world wrong with this picture.

"Omigod. No, no, no, no, _no_!"

"What's wrong?" Zabini asked.

"This can't be happening!"

"You always said you wanted space. She's annoying, admit it."

"Something's wrong, I have to find McGonagall, she'll understand…"

"What in the name of Merlin's left testicle are you talking about?"

"I have to leave. Goodbye."

Hermione fled the room.

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Draco Malfoy felt like he'd been sleeping in a bird's nest. Every time he'd moved his damn head tossing and turning to fall back asleep in the morning hours, his face was scratched by something rough and hairy. It felt like straw.

It was about ten o'clock that morning, and he usually slept until noon on the weekends, but today he felt like he had to get up.

He opened his steely blue eyes, blinked, and opened them again. He saw brown. He shook his head again and wiped the crusties from his eyes. Pulling back the curtains of his bed, he remembered that he had gone to bed with Pansy last night; she must have already awoken and left. Good. He didn't want her company this morning.

"So, boys, what's on the agenda today?" he asked as the light of the room hit him.

He noticed a few things at once as he dangled his legs from the bed: the room was whitish, and the bed curtains were scarlet; his legs were two sticks that were more or less shaved; his toenails were painted light pink; and he was sitting upright, staring at Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.

"Listen, Hermione, can't I please, _please_ do your hair today? I could really do a number on it." Brown was looking at him with liquid brown eyes and suddenly he was afraid.

They were addressing him as if he were the Mudblood. Certainly the legs didn't belong to _him_.

He closed his eyes again. He must be dreaming.

"So? Can I do your hair?"

He opened his eyes and that damned silly girl was still standing in front of him. He gave her his meanest glare. "No! Go away!"

She exchanged a look with Patil, and they left the room.

He dragged his body out of bed and felt some extra appendages bounce along with him. Oh. Right. If he was indeed a girl, he had breasts. Except these breasts were kind of small. Pansy was bigger.

He forced himself to look in the mirror, surprised at how calmly he was taking this transformation. When he saw his appearance with his own eyes, however, he fell to the floor in a dead faint.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm telling you, she's kind of bitchy today," Lavender Brown was saying to Ron, looking hurt. Pansy was nodding her head in agreement. "I only asked if she'd like me to do her hair."

Lavender and Ron had gotten back together in their last year at Hogwarts, after dating off and on over the summer. Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort after a long few months, but could never return to Hogwarts and attend school as he always did. He was changed. Instead, he worked side by side with the Minstry, being trained by Aurors and helping to capture the many Death Eaters who were still loose and causing trouble.

For everyone else, however, it was a return to normalcy. There was the usual news of attacks in the papers by Voldemort supporters, but those seemed to be waning. After all, the big guy in charge was dead. Some young Death Eaters, such as Draco Malfoy, were pardoned, and returned to Hogwarts (but Draco Malfoy was still as much of a git as ever). Snape was pardoned as well; he had nearly lost his life in the final battle fighting against Death Eaters. He did lose an ear. Now he was Potions master once again.

"You know she's kind of sensitive about her hair," Ron told Lavender.

"Yeah, but I didn't remind her it was bushy or anything. I just asked if I could fix it."

"Maybe she's on the rag or something," Parvati put in. Ron blanched and the girls hastily dropped that subject.

"Still, I think she doesn't like me, Won-Won. I think secretly she still likes you, and she's jealous of me." Lavender was pouting.

Ron liked to avoid confrontations, especially when they involved his girlfriend and one of his best friends. He changed the topic. "I think Hufflepuff is looking pret-ty glum today," he said with satisfaction.

"Gryffindor is lucky their Quidditch team has such a good captain," Lavender said tenderly and kissed Ron.

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Hermione Granger tried to avoid as many people as she could in the hallways. Luckily many students were still abed.

She came to the Head dorms and whispered the password. She ran to her room before she could have the chance to encounter the Head Boy, Ernie Macmillan. Especially because she—in Draco Malfoy's body—was only dressed in silk boxers and a T-shirt. Knowing Ernie, the human watchdog, he'd stop her and personally find out why Draco Malfoy was either going or coming from the Head Girl's room. Ernie might even challenge her to a wizarding duel to defend Hermione's honor—that is, once he had gotten over the shock that Draco Malfoy was going to the Mudblood's room in the first place.

Once safely inside her room, she bolted the door. What to do, what to do. McGonagall. She would see McGonagall. But first she had to find some pants.

She should have nabbed some in the Slytherin dorms, but she hadn't been thinking. All her own shorts were too tight on Malfoy's body.. No trousers would fit. Finally she just gave up and drew her oversized fluffy sky-blue bathrobe over her new body. It was rather short, but at least it fit around his torso.

She grabbed the _Daily Prophet_, opened it, and moved the pages to conceal her face as she left the door. She walked through the hallways as students who were anxious for breakfast began to crowd her. She was a barefoot, walking man in a short girly bathrobe with a newspaper obscuring her face.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw herself leaving the great hall.

It looked like herself, but her self was wild-eyed. She also noted that her hair was unbrushed and looked hideous. There wasn't much Hermione could do with her hair, especially in the humidity of days like these, but now her hair—her body's hair—looked like an afro around her face.

She sprinted towards her body and collided with it.

"Ow! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" herself said in her own voice, scandalizing the student body that was entering the Great Hall. Professor Sprout was within earshot, too, and looked shocked as she avoided catching her pupil's eye.

Hermione was embarrassed that this impersonator was already giving her a bad reputation. She didn't use that kind of foul language—well, very rarely, and not when anyone was present. She yanked the arm of whomever was her body and pulled herself under an arch way.

But the body of Hermione was looking at her in disbelief. "You! I mean, me! Why are you in my body? It's Granger, isn't it?" She nodded, knowing it was Malfoy in her body. "Why, you—I'll bloody kill you!"

Anyone passing by would have seen Hermione Granger trying to strangle Draco Malfoy, who easily pushed her to the wall.

Hermione was surprised by her newfound strength, and smirked. Draco saw his own trademark smirk written on his own face and was furious.

"Now that we've proven you can't strangle me, and that I can beat you up anytime now, we have to talk. Incidentally, why do you think I had anything to do with the mix-up? You think I _want_ to be in your body?"

Now Malfoy looked at her, clad in her sky-blue robe that came above his own thighs and hairy legs. "What are you wearing? I look like a fairy who just took a bubble bath. At least I dressed myself."

"It was all I could find. And you…" Here Hermione-as-Malfoy blushed. "…You aren't even wearing a bra."

She was looking into her own face, which appeared Malfoy-ish. The effect was mind-boggling.

"Believe me, there's not much to put in one."

She turned scarlet. "My nipples are sticking out!"

"I don't care."

She threw up her hands in frustration. "Never mind. We need to see McGonagall. Right now."

She dug her manly fingers into Malfoy's arm and propelled him to the Headmistress's office.

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"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear." McGonagall sighed.

This wasn't a good sign.

"What's wrong with us?" Hermione asked after McGonagall didn't elaborate. The form of Draco Malfoy in a sky blue bathrobe was sitting perfectly upright, attentive, in one of the leather chairs across the desk of McGonagall; the figure of Hermione Granger was slumped and stretched out in the other chair.

"Well, I just...I just don't know. It could be a number of things. We'll run tests, of course. You're to report to the Hospital Wing immediately. We'll hope it's just a simple potion gone amuck. Those things are usually reversible, or timed. Perhaps someone slipped something into your drink. If it's a curse..."

Draco Malfoy swore, and McGonagall looked at him; he, in Hermione's body. McGonagall looked a little fazed.

"Miss Granger! I mean, Mr. Malfoy, please refrain from using profanity in front of your teacher." She sighed again. "It is unfortunate that the both of you, in particular, are Switched. Goodbye and good luck. If it can't be fixed immediately, Madame Pomfrey will give you instructions."

"What do you mean, can't be fixed immediately? Am I going to be stuck in _her_ body for a long time? God, it's unbearable!"

"You think it's any easier for me, Malfoy?" Hermione shot back. "I hate it! I hate being Draco Malfoy! And that stupid Pansy Parkinson's slapped me twice already!"

"I have to walk around with a bramble bush on my head, it's disgusting!"

"I have to—"

"Students! You will stop bickering at once and see Madame Pomfrey."

"Yes, Professor."

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"It's an irreversible potion."

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy both shouted angrily.

"No! No, listen; what I mean is, I can't give you an antidote. But you two should be back to yourselves in about two months. The strength of the potion determines the time."

"No antidote?" Hermione's jaw dropped. Malfoy echoed her.

"No, this is a hybrid form of the potion. Someone slipped in a few extra ingredients. A poor joke, I say."

"Bloody hell..."

"Miss Gr—I mean, Mr, Malfoy, would you watch your choice of words!"

"What should we do?" Hermione asked. It all was surreal. She still didn't believe she was trapped in her enemy's body.

"You might return to your homes for the duration of the period—"

"Absolutely not! It's my last year, and I'll miss so many classes!"

"Typical, Granger. Always worried about school."

"Aren't you at all concerned—"

"Actually, I can't go home, either," Malfoy interrupted her. "Mother can't find out that I'm in a mudblood's body. She might try to curse me out of it."

"Would you kindly stop calling me amudblood**'!"**

"We can't tell anyone about this, then," he continued, ignoring her. "It's a matter of safety."

"What? Not tell..." Hermione felt as if someone had squeezed the air out of her. "That's...unthinkable. I can't go around pretending to be _you_."

"It's a matter of safety," Pomfrey put in. "For both of you, not only Mr. Malfoy. Your friends might not take the news so well, and they might try to exploit this. You wouldn't want anyone doing bodily damage to either of you."

"I think I'll just stay in the Room of Requirement for two months," Malfoy told Madame Pomfrey. He jerked his head at Hermione. "If _she_ wants to attend classes, then fine."

"No!" They both looked at her. "If you're pretending to be me, you can't skip class! What will the professors think of me?"

"Is that all you care about?" he sneered.

"And what's more," she said, her temper rising, "they'll think _you're_ attending class each day! It's not fair."

He smirked with her own lips. She wanted to hit him, but then realized she'd be hurting her own body. Damn.

"If Miss Granger is attending classes, then you must, too," Madame Pomfrey put in firmly. "We wouldn't want anybody suspecting anything."

A third year came in with burn marks on his arm, looking pained.

"Excuse me, but I'll have to attend to him. I'll leave you two to go over the ground rules of your interesting predicament. Though you might want to change clothes first, dear," she said to Hermione.

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A/N: a big thanks to ProperT, Serina-chan, callernumber16onz100, marauders rox, brown-eyes27, lilyandjamesfanatic, Jente Bidernais, Silidons, ca803, childoftheorient, and Blue-Stardust for reviewing! your reviews made my day


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! Some of them were pretty funny. Here's chapter three, so enjoy!

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"You can't talk to Weasel or anybody. At least, not really. It'll look strange."

"You can't be arbitrarily mean to people."

"I'm not being nice."

"But you can't make fun of Ron."

"You can't be buddy-buddy with anyone."

"I wouldn't want to be friends with your friends."

"But you have to be a little aloof. Remember, you're superior to them."

She snorted in disbelief, but let it go. "You have to study to get good grades. I don't mean just passing; I mean top marks. You know that means you actually have to work at Potions. Snape won't just hand you a good grade on a silver platter. See how you like discrimination."

"Stay away from Pansy."

"You really don't have to tell me that." Hermione made a disgusted face. "In any case, I think you two are through, as of today."

"No, she'll be back later, and when she is, you'll have to run in the opposite direction. I don't want you pretending to be me then. No letting her sleep with you."

"Oh, gross! Ewww! Why would I even _do_ that?"

"I'm not doing anything touchy-feely with Weasel, either."

"He goes out with Lavender Brown."

"Oh. I thought you dated him."

"Yes, _dated_. We don't go out anymore."

"How does it feel to be dumped?"

"Did I say I was dumped? Why are you always such a jerk?" she said furiously.

"Well, obviously he's moved on. I guess you lost the one boy who didn't care if you were a bushy-haired know-it-all."

"Why don't you just mind your own business!"

"Speaking of your hair...it's too wild. Gets in the way of things. You don't mind if I cut it, do you?" He said this perfectly coolly, waiting for her to explode. She did.

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Ron Weasley was wandering the halls with Lavender in the early evening when he saw Hermione and Malfoy talking.

"...if I cut it, do you?"

"_You cut off my hair and I'll castrate you!_"

"Geez, don't get your knickers in a twist. But really, you should consider it."

What was Hermione talking about? And why was Malfoy threatening to castrate her? Why were they even speaking at all?

He pulled Lavender over to where they were talking; Lavender eyed Hermione warily, still reticent to speak with her after that morning.

"All right, Hermione?"

Malfoy and Hermione both turned to look at them.

"Ron!" Malfoy said in surprise.

Ron was weirded out. Malfoy never acknowledged him, except to insult him. "Er...Malfoy."

Hermione was glaring at Malfoy. "Yes, yes, we're fine, can you stop obsessing over me for one minute and leave? Well? Why are you still here?"

Ron was taken aback. His ears turned red and he left, speechless, Lavender muttering angry things behind him. "The nerve of her! Where does she get off, thinking you're obsessed with her? She really hates me, Ron."

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"Oh, that was brilliant! Just be rude to my friends, Malfoy," Hermione said sarcastically. "Now they _really_ won't be suspicious."

"Well, Brown's not really a friend of yours if she stole Weaselby from you, is she?" he asked slyly. He loved goading people. It was just too easy.

"She did not steal Ron from me! And that's besides the point!"

"You weren't much better, either. Since when do I ever call Weasel by his first name, or moon over him when he walks up to me?"

"I was not mooning over him."

"You're awful at this. You can't lie very well. You'll have the whole school thinking I'm gay by the end of the week." He studied her. "At least you're not wearing that ridiculous bathrobe."

"You're _still_ not wearing a bra."

"Like I said, there isn't much to p—"

"I don't want you to repeat what you said earlier! Just put one on, for God's sake, and for the sake of yourself, because _if I see you one more time with sticky-out nipples walking around the hallways like that_, I will do the—the _worst thing possible_ that I could do to you given the current situation!"

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"I don't know yet, but I'll think of it, you wait and see."

"I can't wait," he said sardonically.

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Hermione missed her own room. There was no privacy in the Slytherin dorms. She had to room with a bunch of boys.

The weirdest thing was getting undressed. She tried not to stare at the other boys and waited until their loo was empty before she ventured in to change her trousers. So far the system was working.

She figured she should at least make an effort to play the part of Draco Malfoy, since Malfoy himself was forced to be around her own friends. She would practice on the only two people in the room right then, Crabbe and Goyle, because both were too stupid to discover who she really was if she made a mistake. Once she had mastered the art of being Malfoy, she might try to talk to those who didn't have the brains of slugs.

She found their sense of humor to be inane. They responded to everything she said with repetitive words or they simply echoed her. Or answered everything with "Your mom". Hermione supposed it was easier to memorize a few phrases than to actually hold a conversation.

For example:

"Who wants to play a game of Exploding Snap?" Hermione had asked.

"Your mom!"

Or,

"What's the topic of that essay you're writing, Crabbe?"

"Your face!"

Ha ha, very funny, Hermione had thought sarcastically. Sometimes Ron used that kind of humor. But Crabbe and Goyle overused it.

"So, whose class are you going to, now?" Hermione asked Crabbe before lunch. Draco, like herself, was taking an advanced class next, so of course Crabbe and Goyle weren't in it.

"Your mom's class!" Crabbe replied.

"In bed," Blaise Zabini added as he entered the room. "So, talked to Pansy yet, Draco?"

"No, I need time to think about our relationship before I want to get back together with her." Hermione was a quick thinker when it came to excuses.

"How much time do you need to think? She's been bugging me all day about you. She's pretty annoying, as I've told you before."

"Right you are. Well...I've decided this is all the time I needed to think about the relationship...a good two minutes. If she asks you again, you can tell her I'm not interested." Hermione was feeling vindictive after having spoken with him the day before. "In fact, you can tell her I never want to see her pug-nosed face ever again."

"She'll be angry," Goyle said, stating the obvious. "Do you think I could ask her out, if you didn't mind, Draco? Only if you didn't care."

"Yeah, go for it," Hermione said breezily. "I'm through with that cow." She knew one of them would probably tell Pansy word for word what she had said about her, and made a mental note to watch out for any flying hands that week.

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"Today you will be brewing your own Sangrinius potions, so partner up. You'll take a sampling from your cauldron and put it in any of these flasks. The ingredients you need are at the back of the room. Begin."

"Hermione..." a hopeful voice said. Draco Malfoy felt a tap on his shoulder. He pretended not to notice.

The tapping persisted. "Hermione."

Draco Malfoy turned around, scowl in place, to come face-to-face with Weasley. "What?"

Over Weasley's shoulder he could see himself—Granger—giving him a look that clearly said, _Be nice._

Weasley looked uneasy at his expression. "Er...I was wondering if you wanted to partner with me?"

Lavender Brown had already sidled up to him and petted his shoulder in the sort of way that made him appear to be her dumb dog and she his master. Well, everyone knew Ron Weasley was Lavender Brown's bitch, Draco thought.

"Ronnie, I thought you were going to partner with me?" she whined.

"Yeah, why don't you partner with _her_?" Draco echoed, turning back to his cauldron and mentally casting an eye over the classroom in search of Blaise. That is, until he remembered he couldn't possibly ask Blaise Zabini to be his partner, not when he was supposed to be Granger.

He did manage to catch Blaise's eye, though, and Blaise seemed to give him a small smile. Draco found himself grinning back until he realized belately that Hermione Granger would never smile like that at Blaise Zabini.

But wait...Blaise Zabini wouldn't smile at Granger, either!

Perhaps he had imagined it. Draco shrugged and turned back to Weasley and Lavender Brown.

"Lavender, I partnered with you last time," Ron Weasley said in a low voice, "and my grade the way it is...I can't work with you this time, we never get anything done when we're together." He tickled her and she giggled.

"I think you should work with your _girlfriend_," Draco emphasized from behind them.

"But, Herms, Lav and I can't work together. And—"

"Weasley, Granger, Brown, why haven't you found partners yet?"

"We just—"

"Hold your tongue, Miss Granger, I wasn't finished speaking." Draco winced inwardly; Snape had never spoken to him in that manner! "Now, Weasley, you may partner with Granger. Unless you'd like to work with Miss Brown and receive yet _another_ failing grade for a potion."

Ron Weasley shook his head.

"Professor," Malfoy spoke up assertively, "I really would like to work alone. I can manage—"

"Miss Granger, just because your head is inflated and you think yourself the greatest witch in England doesn't mean you can defy my rules. You _must_ work with a partner and not make a poor attempt to show up everyone else," Snape said harshly. "And you, Brown, will work with Longbottom. I don't believe he has a partner yet."'

Lavender shot Draco a dirty look (as if this was all _his_ fault!) and walked over to Longbottom.

"Now get to work."

They obeyed.

Weasley turned out to be a most incompetent potions partner. Not only that but he was lazy.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" Draco snapped. "Cut up those roots, will you, and stop standing around!"

"Geez, Hermione," Weasley said, shell-shocked, "it's just...you always hate it when I try to do anything in potions. You said you have your own system, and you can't stand it when I do things my way."

"Not today, Weasley. Now cut those roots."

"Why did you just call me Weasley?"

"Because you're annoying me. Now just shut up and pick up the knife, Godda"—he corrected himself from swearing at his partner—"God bless you," he finished, swallowing his words. Weasel was still looking at him, eyebrows nearly to his hairline, when Draco added, "Look, it's been a bad day. I'm not in a good mood, and I don't feel like talking."

"Oh." Weasley seemed comforted by this explanation. He blushed. "Er..." he stuttered and then he mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Lavender said" mumble mumble mumble "feminine problems."

"I _said_ I'm not in the mood to talk!"

If there was anything more awkward then discussing "feminine problems" with another guy, it was discussing them when he thought you were a _girl_.

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Hermione brought down the blade of her knife on a flower with a sickening _thud_, chopping away until each petal was ripped from the sinewy threads that attached to its center. She hacked up three more flowers in just the same fashion, deriving a sort of sadistic pleasure from the motion. She was partnered with Millicent Bulstrode.

"Draco," a voice said, and Hermione realized fairly quickly it was she Professor Snape was speaking to. She was used to being called Malfoy's name by now.

"Yes, Professor?"

"_Slice_ the petals, don't hack, Draco. It's less dangerous and more precise. You look like the executioner who beheaded Mary, Queen of Scots."

Hermione wanted to reply that Snape couldn't possibly have been around long enough to have seen the queen's poorly carried out execution, just to be contrary...but of course she didn't say so.

She snuck a glance at Malfoy and Ron. Malfoy's expression mirrored her own.

"I've added the wormwood," Millicent told Hermione. "Have you cut all the petals off?"

"Yes," Hermione said, and added the ingredient. She looked again at Malfoy and Ron. Now, both their faces were red, and Malfoy yelled a sentence at her friend. Hermione gulped; she hoped Malfoy wasn't being too Malfoy-ish, or Ron would think something was amiss. Ron may be a little thick-skulled when it came to girl behavior, but he might begin to recognize something if Malfoy kept this up.

She turned back to her work as Millicent talked about something unimportant. She didn't mind working with her _too_ much. She was glad to have escaped working with Crabbe or Goyle. Or Pansy.

"_What are you doing?_" came a loud voice.

"I'm adding that red liquid, you said—" Ron was saying as he held a thin vial over their cauldron. Hermione perked up her ears and listened, frozen.

"You nincompoop, you don't add that until later!" Malfoy shouted furiously. "Stop putting it in the cauldron!" Hermione was able to observe first-hand how she appeared when she was angry. She was a fearsome sight to behold.

Snape had come over to Malfoy and Ron. "What's the problem, Granger?"

"_She's_ ordering me around—"

"I asked Miss Granger, not you, Weasley. If you two don't get your act together—"

"—not my fault, she wasn't talking to me, so I didn't know—"

"WHY ARE YOU STILL POURING?" Malfoy screamed.

Suddenly time froze.

Snape realized what Ron was holding in his hand. He snatched the vile from the student and snarled, "Idiot boy! You'll destroy us all! Everyone out! GET OUT!"

The students looked unsure of what to do.

"Professor, should we—leave our potions unfinished?" a bewildered Dean Thomas said.

"_Isn't anyone able to follow directions around here?_ _OUT!_"

No one could get out of the room fast enough. Squeezing, poking, jostling, elbowing each other out of the way, they were mostly out of the dungeon room.

"_Hurry up!_" Snape growled.

Hermione glimpsed the offensive cauldron before she was out the door: it was a mixture of bubbling red that was rising at a dangerous rate.

They were all safely out of the room when Snape stood in the doorway and pointed his wand. "Reducto!" he said. Then, "Liquiditus!" and finally, "Evenesco!"

But of course the potion didn't evaporate. It jet-propelled poisonous red liquid all over the classroom in a defeaning explosion and splattered on the door just as Snape violently slammed it shut.

The students stood in the hallway silently.

Snape turned to them. He was livid.

"Weasley...Granger...," he said in a soft, deadly tone. "I think you two had better come to my office."

"Professor?" Dean asked.

"What, Thomas?" Snape practically barked at the student.

"Er...I don't think you'll be able to get through to your office."

The professor realized that his office was connected to the classroom. After a few seconds of swearing, he said, "Never mind. Weasley and Granger will see me in the _Headmistress's_ office _IMMEDIATELY_!" he thundered. The two students obeyed meekly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Again, thanks to everyone for your reviews!! story is below my notes to you.**

**A/N:  
**

**Thank you Gentileschi, Zarroc, callernumber16onz100, Blue-Stardust, M.C. Firefly, Tigersky7, clarealexandrea, basketballstarhottie, ca803, lilyandjamesfanatic, brown-eyes27, marauders rox**

** childoftheorient: when I first thought of this story I knew I'd want to include Pansy. I like writing about her, she's so annoying so it makes for funny situations.  
**

**Aangsfangirl1214: I don't like Ron/Lavender either. They're always so annoying together!  
**

**Gueneviere and Proper T: glad you noticed the bit about Blaise smiling at Hermione. You find out why he's so friendly with her in this chapter!**

**marshmellowluvr: haha that's a funny suggestion, and I was thinking of working it in, but then later on in the story a character will actually find out about the Switch for real.**

**Proper T: yes, Draco is painfully awkward during the Switch. He just can't help being himself! He's a lot worse about his behavior in this chapter, too.**

**Serina-Chan: glad it brightened your day! **

**Silidons: ha the part you mentioned was one of my favorite parts, too :) Thanks for reviewing again and again!**

**Jente Bidernais: I like your sense of humor. And you're Dutch, which is pretty cool!**

**Ok, so here's chapter four:  
**

"Sorry, Hermione," Ron whispered as Snape marched him and Malfoy to the headmistress's office. "Guess we're in for it now."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Like I said, I'm sorry."

"Just...just please don't talk, okay..._Ron_."

"Okay. But again, I'm really s—" Ron was quickly silenced by a death glare from the other student.

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"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," McGonagall said after the two walked into her office accompanied by Snape. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"These two students, Minerva," Snape explained, fighting to keep his voice even, "have destroyed my classroom."

McGonagall looked from Hermione Granger—Malfoy—to Ronald Weasley. "Oh. Oh." She blinked. "And how did this happen?"

"They were incorrectly brewing a Sangrinius potion and refused to follow directions correctly. For their willful disregard of the rules, I will now have to conduct classes elsewhere."

"Have you informed Mr. Filch of the classroom damage?"

"No."

"Very well. I'll send word to him in a moment."

"I am asking to have Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley placed in a special detention. I would like them to assist Filch in cleaning the dungeon." McGonagall opened her mouth to protest but Snape continued. "Yes, I know the fumes are poisonous, and the liquid is injurious to human flesh, so they would have to wear protective suits and masks as well as being spelled. But I think you will agree the punishment fits the crime, Minerva. Perhaps this will teach them the work involved in cleaning up after such a mess."

"Yes," McGonagall said, and sighed. "You are right. Very well, I give you permission."

Minerva McGonagall could only think with grim satisfaction that at least it was really Draco Malfoy and not Miss Granger who would have to clean the room.

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Draco Malfoy was furious as he walked to his dormitory. He wanted to write his mother and complain, but of course he couldn't. However, he did consider for a brief moment confessing everything to Snape. Maybe the professor would go easy on him after realizing he wasn't Granger.

He soon felt his arm jerked roughly as he was pulled into an alcove. "Don't even think about it," he heard Granger say warningly.

"How did you even know what I was thinking?"

"I can practically read your mind. 'Boo hoo, I have a detention, let's see how I can get out of it'. You can't inform _anyone_ of our Switch, remember? Not even Snape!" she declared.

"Do you _know_ what I have to do? I have to clean every inch of the dungeon, which is covered in poisonous potion thanks to your thick-headed friend!"

"I know, I heard."

"Well? Don't you think it's unfair?"

"You were Ron's partner. You obviously didn't make any attempt to communicate. And please try to be more civil in the future."

"Damn you! I don't have to be civil for anybody! I hate being you!"

"Happy cleaning," she said as she walked away. "By the way, you're headed in the wrong direction."

"How would you know where I'm going?" he sneered.

"Because this way leads towards the Slytherin dorms. You're a Gryffindor, remember?" she reminded him.

He let out a string of curses that would shrivel the ears of any passerby.

"Oy! Young lady!" a chess player in a portrait called out. "Mind your tongue, or I'll send word to the Headmistress to have your mouth washed with soap!"

Draco only gave the portrait a special one-fingered salute as he walked off.

"Girls are so vulgar these days," the portrait lamented.

He spotted Crabbe and Goyle on his way to his new dormitory. Goyle purposedly hit his shoulder against Draco's, and Draco winced and drew back his arm to hit the bigger student, but then stopped himself.

"Look at the Mudblood," Goyle sneered.

"I think she wants a fight," Crabbe added.

"Oh, sod off, both of you," Draco said.

Crabbe drew himself up importantly. "You're still a mudblood." Draco realized it was the only insult Crabbe ever called Granger.

"I"m not a mudblood." He didn't like to be insulted. Why, his blood was as pure as their own! And he wasn't dumbed down from generations of inbreeding, like those two morons. "If you ever call me a mudblood again, I'll tell Pansy how Blaise has caught you stealing her panties on a number of occasions. Plus I'll tell Snape that it was you who stole all his calacta vine last year when you tried to brew that illegal weight-loss and muscle-building potion." He eyed their fat figures. "Even if you were too stupid to do it properly."

He left them there in the hallway, mouths gaping.

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Draco Malfoy thought he would have some peace and quiet once he reached the Heads dorms. Unfortunately he couldn't remember the password to gain entrance. 

Luck was on his side, however, as Ernie Macmillan strolled up to the portrait.

"Watcha doing, Hermione?" he asked.

"Going to my room. Erm...Are you going inside as well?"

"No, I'm headed to the library."

"Cool, cool...well, hey, mind telling me the password?"

"What password?"

"The password to the dormitory. It just slipped my mind, wasn't it, er, mintaluddenmus or something?"

Ernie's face was grave. "I don't think I can tell you the password, Hermione."

Draco was exasperated. "And why not?"

"Because, we're not allowed to give anyone our passwords."

"Don't be an ars—I mean, a silly person," Draco said hastily. "It doesn't count if you tell _me_. I'm Head Girl." He tried to sound authoritative, like Granger.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I really shouldn't."

"Give me _one good reason—_" Draco started to say angrily.

"You might be an imposter. I mean, not that I think you are," the Head Boy reassured Draco, "but it's still good practice. I couldn't possibly give you secret information like that."

Draco stood on his tiptoes, trying to make himself look imposing in his smaller body. "Now, you listen to me, Ernie Macmillan," he threatened the other student, "...If you don't tell me the password in three seconds, I'm going to make you wish you'd _never been born_." He gave Macmillan an icy glare.

The Head Boy complied immediately.

Ginny Weasley was waiting inside the Head Girl room, bouncing on Granger's bed. So much for peace and quiet.

"Hey," she greeted him, "how's it going? You look kind of mad."

"Macmillan's an idiot," Draco told her. "Such a stickler for rules."

"You know, I think he secretly fancies you," Ginny said with a wink.

"Disgusting. Could we not talk about anything like that?"

"What's wrong? We always have girl talk."

"Look, I 'm not—" He was about to say that he wasn't in the _mood_ to talk (his favorite excuse) when he realized he might turn the conversation to his benefit.

He wondered just exactly how poor the Weasleys were. He'd always made fun of Ron Weasley for their poverty, but he was curious to know how much money they had.

"So, W—Ginny," Draco began, "How much does your dad make in a year?"

"What?" Ginny cried.

"Just curious," Draco said hastily.

"I've no idea. Why do you care?" Ginny said, a little defensively.

"Just...just wondering. You see, I heard something about a great investment in...Gumbler's Great Items for Mischief. But it all depends on how much you're willing to put down."

"We don't buy stock in Gumbler's, they're Fred and George's competition."

"Oh...right."

"So, I came here to tell you about my date," Ginny said, lowering her voice. She sounded excited. "Well, aren't you going to ask me about it? It's only my third one with him."

"Er...how was it?" He wondered if there were any way for him to excuse himself and get rid of the youngest Weasley.

"Well, don't act _too_ interested," Weasley said huffily. This Weasley was obviously more perceptive than her brother. He would have to take care to watch the tone in his voice.

"Sorry. It's just that I have to use the loo, could you tell me about it some other t—"

"He kissed me!" the Weaslette suddenly shrieked, falling back on the pillows and giggling like a maniac.

Draco was disturbed. "How...nice." He couldn't help a disgusted sneer from appearing on his face.

Luckily Weasley couldn't see his face, and she was too absorbed in her raptures to notice the sarcasm.

She sighed blissfully. "Blaise is the best kisser I've known."

_That_ got his attention. "Blaise? Blaise _who_?"

"Ha ha, very funny."

"Blaise _Zabini_?"

"Oh, stop it. You've known about him since we've been going out."

Draco didn't trust himself to speak. He turned his back to Weasley and privately fumed. _Blaise, go out with a Gryffindor? After professing hatred for their house? And a _Weasley_ at that! Hadn't Blaise, along with the rest of the Slytherins, always complained how the Weasleys were a bunch of blood traitors?_

"Well? Isn't it _glorious_?'

"Yeah, cool," Draco said, trying to infuse a little excitement in his tone to mask the anger. "So, uh, exactly how long has it been, again?"

"Yesterday was our one-month anniversary, dolt. That's why we were going out."

"Right, right. It's, er, too bad you haven't had more than three dates."

"Yeah, but you know how it is, sneaking behind everyone's back. We can't just walk together around Hogsmeade."

"And it's been a month and he's only kissed you _now_?" Draco was a little amused. It was completely unlike Blaise to take his time with anyone.

"Well, we haven't been able to see each other as often as we should, so naturally things have been moving _slowly_," Ginny Weasley emphasized. "By the way, what are you wearing tonight?"

"What do you mean? Am I _supposed_ to change clothes?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten about our secret double-date."

"Date?" Draco exclaimed, jumping. "What date? I can't go on a date!"

"Relax. You were perfectly willing to go with Blaise and me when I asked you the other day. I thought it'd be fun. I know you and Neville are only going as friends—"

"_Longbottom!_" Draco yelped.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing...nothing."

Ginny Weasley gave him a strange look and began again. "And even though Blaise doesn't really know Neville, he thinks it's nice that Neville's willing to go with us, and that he's keeping it a secret."

"I don't want to be set up with—with Neville."

"Why are you acting so weird? You're going as friends, idiot. If he tries to go for something more like last time, just subtly hint that there's someone else in the picture."

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In normal circumstances Draco would have flat-out refused to go on a date with another guy. So what if he had to pretend to be Granger? He didn't have to do this!

He could always feign sickness. But there was the tiny matter of Blaise Zabini. This was major. Draco would suffer through the evening because Weasley's date was Blaise. Draco was dying of curiosity and he was extremely angry besides. What gives? he thought. First he needed to see Blaise and Ginny Weasley together with his own eyes--a confirmation--and then, if it was true, he might try to confront Blaise, to tap into his mind.

He and the Weaslette were getting ready before the night out.

"So what do I wear?"

"Something that doesn't hide your body. No bulky jumpers, all right?"

"Sure."

Ginny Weasley was already dressed and in the Head Girl room, waiting to sneak out of Hogwarts for the date.

Draco inspected drawers of clothes. He carefully selected a pair of black jeans and a normalish green top. Satisfied with his choice, he beckoned Ginny Weasley to leave the room.

"Go on, try it on."

"Not while _you're_ here."

"You always undress in front of me!"

"Well, I'm feeling self-concious right now, d'you mind leaving for a moment?" he said, exasperated.

"Fine." She went into Granger's and Macmillan's common room.

Draco stepped out of the bedroom, feeling like he'd forgotten something. He stopped short when he saw Ginny staring at him and grinning.

"Well?" he asked impatiently. "How do I look?"

"Great...if you want your nipples to stick out."

"What?"

"You forgot to put on a bra."

"Ah." He snapped his fingers and went to put one on.

"Mental," Ginny muttered.

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It was nine o'clock and dark. Longbottom and Blaise met them by the statue of the one-eyed witch.

"You look good, Hermione," Longbottom said as he attempted to give Draco a winning smile.

"Ginny," Draco muttered when they were walking in the chilly air outside Hogwarts, "what exactly happened _the last time?_"

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(later on the date)

They were in The Three Broomsticks, and so far it was awkward. Draco couldn't stop himself from glaring daggers at Blaise. Blaise pretended not to notice, but he did look a little unnerved.

"So, _Blaise_," Draco said after Ginny had gone to get them butterbeers. "You must be pretty brave to go out with Ginny Weasley. Aren't you afraid of persecution, from your own Housemates?"

Blaise laughed nervously, still trying to tear his eyes away from Draco's hard gaze. "Well, I haven't told anyone from Slytherin, as you're probably aware. Slytherins aren't that open to these kinds of things, you know."

Longbottom was trying to turn the tide of conversation to safer waters. "I don't know about you two, but I really enjoyed Professor Sprout's lesson the other day. The one with the African potted pickleplants?"

Draco ignored the opportunity to ridicule Longbottom for talking about Herbology on a date. He looked at Blaise pointedly. "Mmhmmm. And haven't you, as a Slytherin, always denounced the Weasleys?"

"What are you talking about?" Blaise asked with a touch of anger.

"Hermione, I really don't think we should discuss—"

"Shut up, Longbottom, before I magically sew your lips together. Now, Blaise, don't tell me you've never joked to your friends about what a bunch of blood-traitors the Weasleys are?"

"And why would you say—"

"Everyone knows the kinds of things Slytherins say about Weasels—er, Weasleys. I assume you used to say the same things. Why the sudden change of heart?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "Ginny informed me that you approved of _us_. I didn't expect you to interrogate me like this."

"But how could you? It betrays the very values of a Slytherin!" Draco yelled, jumping up from his seat.

Blaise jumped up as well. "Why the hell do you care?" he yelled back. "You aren't even a Slytherin!"

"Yes, that's exactly right! I'm not a Slytherin!" He shouted. He paused as they stared at him. "I only want to find out your motives! _Not_ because I'm a Slytherin, as we obviously know." _Shut up, brain! _"I mean, why, Blaise? Have you suddenly lost your aversion to people like the Weasleys? Why?!"

"Damn you!" Blaise said. "I don't have to tell you why! I like Ginny because she's Ginny, not because she's a Weasley! And the war's over, and I don't care about silly things like that. I never have, not really, anyway!"

"Would everyone just settle down—"

"_Shut up, Longbottom!_" both Blaise and Draco shouted.

"And why did you not tell anyone?" Draco continued.

"Because all my friends are stupid sons of Death Eaters and arseholes, too!" Blaise glared at Draco.

Draco glared right back. "Well. Right. I just can't be-_lieve_ you wouldn't even tell your best friend."

"Who, Draco Malfoy? You're fucking mad, Granger! He hates all of you!"

"He doesn't hate all of us!" Draco burst out before he knew what he was saying.

"And what is your interest in all of this?"

Draco realized he had overstepped his boundaries as Hermione Granger. Wayyyy overstepped his boundaries. "You're right," he forced himself to say through gritted teeth just as Ginny Weasley was returning with drinks. "It's not any of my business, because, after all, I'm not a Slytherin myself."

He sulked and drowned his anger out in the drink.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Thanks again to everyone for reviewing! Sorry that this chapter is kind of late, I"ve been lazy :)

Well, a friend pointed out something important to me the other day that I hadn't even thought of at first... and that is if Draco Malfoy is actually female for two months, he has to get a certain...never mind. You'll see. grins

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The evening progressed rather uneventfully after that first confrontation. Ginny Weasley and Blaise were tender towards each other, and Draco couldn't stomach it. Then Neville Longbottom droned on about a particular kind of cactus root as Blaise and Ginny listened politely. Even more disturbing, Longbottom had casually rested his arm around Draco's chair. Draco couldn't lean back comfortably without coming into contact with the other boy's arm.

Draco felt it was high time he ordered something good to drink. He ordered a Firewhiskey and caught the expression on Ginny Weasley's face.

"What? I'm seventeen," he told her, thinking, _At least I hope I am._

"I thought you didn't like Firewhiskey."

Draco relaxed. "I've decided I need to give it another chance."

But when Draco ordered a second, and then a third, drink of the high proof liquid, Ginny looked seriously concerned.

Draco also realized that the alcohol affected him much more greatly when he was in Hermione's body. He was already beginning to slur his words and was even a little shaky when he stood up to use the loo.

When he arrived back at the table, Longbottom—and only Longbottom—was waiting for him.

"Ginny said she had to run to Honeydukes quickly to buy something, and Blaise said he had to get a breath of fresh air. He said he wouldn't be back for a little while." He looked at Draco as if he were an innocent. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"What?"

"They're probably kissing in some private corner."

Did Draco just imagine it or did Neville seem to scoot closer to him?

"Probably." Draco sounded calm, but he was furious. His supposed best friend and his actual best friend had both abandoned him to make out with each other and left him to deal with Longbottom!

Longbottom called Madame Rosmerta over and ordered a Firewhiskey.

"I.D., please."

"Huh?"

"I need to see your identification, please," Rosmerta said. Longbottom blushed and held up a card.

"Very well. Just a moment, please."

Draco looked at Longbottom uneasily when the drink was placed in front of him. "D'you drink very often, Neville?" he asked as the boy took a swig and immediately began to cough.

"Erm, yeah, loads of times," Longbottom replied, face pink.

Somehow Draco doubted this very much.

"Maybe you'd be better off with something less alcoholic."

"No," Longbottom said stubbornly. "I'm fine. You've had four already."

But he managed to down the glass and ordered another one. Two empty glasses later and Longbottom's arm had slid down to around Draco's shoulders.

Draco wondered if he had ever been in so uncomfortable a situation.

"Hermione, you're a really great girl."

"Yeah, cheers, you too."

"I mean it." Longbottom's eyes were a little squinty and he was a little loopy. "You're intelligent...beautiful..."

"Have you _seen_ my hair at all this week?" Draco asked the other boy incredulously.

"And you're a very nice person. You've always been so kind to everybody...misfits, house-elves—"

"Bloody house-elves," Draco muttered under his breath.

"And you're brave," Longbottom continued. "I don't know how many times you've stood up to the Slytherins, and usually not even for yourself. Especially when you stand up to Malfoy."

"Eh?"

Neville was inching his torso closer and closer to Draco.

"I was always so mad when he—when he used to call you a..."

"Mudblood?" Draco supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, that." Neville gulped another swig of Firewhiskey. "You don't deserve to be called any—hic—anything so mean."

"I don't think he's that mean anymore," Draco said helplessly.

"Hic—really, Hermione? I think—I think he's rotten."

"I don't think he means what he says all the time," Draco said slowly, "even when he insults Grang—me. I think it's just a force of habit."

"Hermione...would you like to go out with me sometime? I mean, actually go out sometime?"

With these words, Neville clumsily tried to bring his lips close to Draco's.

Draco pushed him away immediately. "Erm, listen, Neville," he said quickly. "I can't because..." The alcohol was making his head pound and he couldn't think straight. He wanted to tell Longbottom, _Because you're a little slow-witted and not at all attractive and rather nerdly and not good enough for Granger. It doesn't matter if she's a mudblood and you're a pureblood, she shouldn't go out with you._ Then he couldn't believe he thought those words.

Think. He tried to think of what Hermione would say. She'd probably let him down gently.

"You see...Neville...you're an intelligent and wonderful guy"—he nearly choked on his own lies—"but there might be someone else in the picture, someone I might like."'

Neville looked crestfallen. "Oh."

Then, "Who is it?"

He paused for a moment. "Draco Malfoy."

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It was late and Hermione knew that Ginny had gone out with Blaise. She roamed the halls, wondering how they were doing, and if they had returned. She spotted Ron passing by with Lavender.

"Where's your sister, Weasley?" Hermione asked as they approached her. She had gotten used to calling Ron by his last name now.

Suddenly she realized that coming from Malfoy, it must have sounded like a jeer. When had Malfoy ever asked about Ginny?

"What's it to you, Malfoy? Why do you want to know?" Ron said angrily, striding up to Hermione.

Lavender looked anxious. "You know, Ronnie, I haven't seen Ginny in hours...and it's pretty late already."

"All right," Ron growled, "where is she, Malfoy?" He grabbed Hermione by her shirt lapels. Lavender squeaked.

She froze. _Merlin! Why didn't I stop to think? Ron's much too protective of his sister!_

She forced herself to remain calm even though she was in Ron's tight grip. "I don't know where your sister is."

Ron was still suspicious. "Why did you ask about her? She's been disappearing for a while, I think, and if you've been doing anything to her—"

"Nothing at all!" Hermione said hastily. She pushed Ron away from her.

Ron took this as a challenge. "Don't push me, Malfoy, or I'll break your nose."

"If you come near my nose, Ronald Bilius Weasley, I'll hex you!"

"Bilius?" Lavender inquired, wrinkling her nose.

Ron clearly thought she was mocking him by invoking his full name, so he felt justified in punching the face of Malfoy.

"Ow!" Hermione yelped. "That hurt!" She felt tears stinging in the back of her eyes, but they didn't come out. They seemed to fight their way back down into her tear ducts. Well, she supposed Malfoys never showed any emotion.

"Yeah? You deserved it!" Ron shouted. He took another swing, but this time Hermione ducked and hit him at the same time.

"Oh God," Hermione groaned. "What have I done? Look, I'm so—"

"Malfoy, you're _dead_!" With a yell Ron rushed at Hermione, who tried to push him away. Both were knocked down as Lavender was shrieking in the background.

"Ron! RON!" a familiar voice screamed.

Ron looked up from his struggles and in that split-second Hermione managed to shatter his nose.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean—"

Ron was then trying to pound her.

Then he felt two sets of smaller arms dragging him off his enemy. "Ginny? Hermione?"

"Enough!" Ginny cried, and they stopped fighting.

Hermione, Ron noticed, looked livid. "What are you doing? Get away from him!" she said forcefully.

The real Hermione held a hand to her nose. It seemed to be gushing blood. Ron's nose was definitely broken. They all walked to the Hospital Wing, Hermione and Ron on opposite ends of the group.

"Ginny," Ron asked in a nasally voice, "Why were you and Zabini roabing around the halls together?"

"We weren't," Ginny said quickly. "I just came upon you and Malfoy fighting, and Zabini came along at the same time."

"Oh."

Hermione snorted. Ron would believe anything he wanted to believe. He could be so dense sometimes.

"What's so funny, mBalfoy?" Ron asked angrily as he reapplied pressure to his nose.

"Your face," Hermione replied automatically—seriously, boys used the stupidest humor when they were around each other—and then screamed as a bloody-faced Ron tried to beat her up again.

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Draco woke up feeling a tad bit nauseated. He sat up and felt wetness under the sheets.

_Girls don't get nocturnal emissions_, he thought as his stomach contracted and he winced in pain. He pulled back the sheets and saw red. Blood.

One more painful stomach contraction and he lay back down in the bed, "I'm dying," he announced melodramatically, "if there's anyone around here that cares." He thought that if this was what Firewhiskey did to Granger, it was no wonder she didn't like it. "I'm dying," he repeated loudly. Then he flopped back on the pillow and passed out.

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"...haven't seen Hermione, I wanted to ask about the Transfiguration assignment."

Hermione whipped her head around to talk to Ron, but then turned back around grumpily. She missed talking to Ron.

Then she did a double-take and whipped around again. There was no sign of Draco Malfoy. To anyone in the class it looked as if she were missing.

"Stupid Malfoy," she muttered as she fumed throughout the whole class. He must have overslept. She would kill him when she went to wake him after class.

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"Malfoy! Just as I expected. Get your arse out of bed!" Hermione noticed that she was less caring of her choice of words when she was in Malfoy's body.

"Aughhhhh," Malfoy groaned.

"Get up, I don't care how late you were up last night, you have to go to class. Come on, _up_!"

"Aughhhhhhhhhhhh."

She tugged at the blanket. "_Malfoy_—"

"Aughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

She stared. "What in the name of Merlin's left testicle are you griping about?" She winced as she noted that Blaise's rough language was rubbing off on her.

"Granger...I'm dying," Malfoy groaned piteously.

"Don't give me that crap, Malfoy! Now, you get out of bed _this instant_ or I'll—"

"I can't move."

She pulled the sheet from Malfoy. "Now, what is wrong with you?" She spied some spots of red further down and gasped. "I—oh. Oh my."

"Now Granger," said Malfoy slowly, "when we went over the ground rules of our...situation...I thought we were supposed to tell each other _important things_ to remember."

"Oh my God, I am so sorry," Hermione said, covering her mouth with her hand in horror. "It didn't even occur to me—"

"—to mention how you get really bad reactions after drinking Firewhiskey. So now I have _horrible_ stomach pains and I feel _really_ bloated. And I think I have internal bleeding, probably the whiskey's tearing your stomach lining apart or something. So thanks, Granger. Thanks a lot." He expected pity. Pity and a better apology.

Hermione burst out laughing.

"Damn you! Shut up, it's not funny!"

Now she was howling.

"If you don't shut the hell up right this minute—"

"_Firewhiskey!_" Hermione hooted, tears running from her eyes. "Oh, that is priceless. AHAHAHAHAHA..."

She made herself shut up and took a deep breath. "Erm, Draco."

He glared at her. He also realized it was the first time she'd said his christian name rather than _Malfoy_ or _Ferret_.

"Listen, I'm...you're having your period right now."

"Come again?"

"Menstrual cycle."

"I'm _what_?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Granger made him take a nice warm bath and then had him change into a new pair of underpanties that had something rough stuck onto it.

"A pad," she explained, "to soak up the blood."

"Can't you make it stop bleeding?" he asked her, and she just laughed.

"No."

"My stomach hurts."

Wordlessly she handed him two pink tablets. He swallowed them with water. "Still hurts."

"They're not debilitating cramps," she said scornfully. "Some girls get really horrible ones. Mine are regular. You'll be fine once the medicine has time to sink in."

"This can't be normal," he said in agony, pacing back and forth around her room.

"Didn't your parents ever explain about the menstrual cycle and reproduction?"

"Of course they did!" he snapped. "But this still doesn't seem normal. And I'm not going to have anything to do with your lower body parts for the rest of the week."

"You don't have to _look_ at anything bleeding," Hermione had said, exasperated. "All you have to do is take off the pad when you go to the loo and stick another one on."

"I'm not touching any of that! You'll have to do it for me. You can accompany me to the loo and I'll hand you your own bloody padded underwear, got it?"

"That's...that's ridiculous. I can't change it for you."

"Yes, you can!" he howled.

"It's absurd. Now, be a man, you sissy."

"I am a sissy. I'm bleeding from my—"

"And be ready in ten minutes. You have Ancient Runes."

"I have to go to _class_??"


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I know it's been a very long time since I've updated. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed anyway, and inspired me to continue.

That settled it: from now on he would never make fun of girls if they were irritable by suggesting they had PMS, now that he knew what it was like.

A day later Draco Malfoy was reclining on a grassy hill. Professor Snape had to teach Potions outside since his classroom still had yet to be deemed fit for use—despite Draco's and Weasley's hours of cleaning. Snape had managed to come up with six cauldrons for the class as theirs had been destroyed in the explosion. It was lucky for Weasley, Draco thought viciously, that they hadn't made them pay for the damage, or else Weasley's parents might have had to take out a fourth mortgage on their house.

Because there were only six cauldrons to be had, the class had to partner in groups of three or four. This time, however, Snape chose the partners. As Ron inched towards Draco (obviously his last experience hadn't deterred him from seeking him out as a partner), Snape nearly bit his head off as he ordered him to be with Patil and Brown.

"But, Professor," Weasley protested innocently, "it's not like we could do much damage to anything again if we're _outside_."

Draco could see Hermione Granger chuckle at this.

"Weasley, just do as you're told and shut up. Or it'll be ten points from Gryffindor."

Snape had Draco partner with Granger and Longbottom, whom were even worse matches for him than Weasley: at least he was not Switched with Weasley and at least Weasley wasn't a know-it-all mudblood. And at least he hadn't—yet, Draco thought—been hit on by Weasley as he had by Longbottom. What a bloody mess.

He was trying to catch her eye, but every time he looked at her from across the cauldron she looked away. Then she was trying to look at him, but wouldn't meet his eyes and he would look away. And then—

"You can stop making eyes at each other from over the cauldron," Neville growled beside them.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said quickly.

"You need a lobotomy, Longbottom. Or whatever those Muggles do to their kind."

Hermione elbowed him. Oh. He'd said "Longbottom" again. It was just too hard to call the bloke Neville.

Neville Longbottom was all agog. "'Muggles'? 'Their kind'? What's up with you, Hermione?"

"Nothing. I'm just in a bad mood, oh, I don't why, maybe I just had the shock of my life yesterday morning."

Hermione gave him a warning look.

Neville looked at him. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, sure, I'm fine." Under his breath he muttered, "Girls and their body parts. Disgusting."

"What?"

"I said I'm okay, it was nothing."

The lesson continued without incident. They brewed their potion with minimal conversation and departed afterwards. They were kept in the same groups for the next few days, which was awkward for each of them.

A week later as Hermione walked back to the castle from the Potions lesson outside, she couldn't help but notice that Neville was glaring at her back. In fact, Neville was trying to provoke her all week, Hermione noticed. Or was he?

She was walking down a corridor one night when she came across Ernie MacMillan.

"Hello, MacMillan," she said neutrally.

"Malfoy, I have something to speak to you about."

She stopped. "All right. Go on."

"It's about Hermione Granger."

Her heart raced.

"Yes? What about her?"

"Ah, yes, well…Malfoy, I know we are very different people, and that we come from different Houses that don't particularly get on with each other—"

_Get on with it_, Hermione wanted to say, but bit her tongue.

"—but we are still very much all connected, especially where mutual acquaintances are concerned—"

"So what are you saying?" Hermione prompted him, to speed the process. Sometimes Ernie's pomposity and verbosity got in the way of things.

"I'm asking you to clarify your intentions where the Head Girl is concerned."

"Pardon?"

"I want to know your intentions."

"My _intentions_?" Hermione yelped.

"Yes, whether your intentions are honorable."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not a fool, Malfoy. I have it from a reputable source—"

"What source?"

"—that you are pursuing Hermione Granger, and Hermione is interested in you, and she's an intelligent girl but frankly I'm not sure she understands your motives and I just want to know them. I hope you understand that if you lead her on and trick her you'll have me and—and _others_ to answer to."

"Really, Ernie, this is too much," Hermione said, flabbergasted. "For one thing…_I_ am not pursuing Hermione Granger…and second, Hermione Granger does not like me! She thinks I'm vain and sneaky and, and…a lot of other things I can't articulate right now." She cleared her throat and looked quickly away before looking back at Earnie. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have Potions homework to finish." She brushed past the Head Boy without waiting for the possibility that he might open his mouth with a protest. _Ridiculous, that he would think something like that…obviously Neville said something..but really absurd…_

Hermione was too deep in thought to notice the visitor stretched out on her bed—no, Malfoy's bed—when she arrived to the Slytherin rooms.

"Hello, Draco." Pansy shot her a sultry look from her position on Malfoy's bed. Her robes were undone just enough to give Hermione a glimpse of a low-cut green sweater and lacy black bra that was clearly intended for her to see.

"Oh. Er, hi." Hermione really didn't understand what was expected of her as far as interacting with Draco's girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Was she to dismiss Pansy? Be civil? Well, Draco had said he didn't want Pansy coming back. Why was she stretched out on the bed now, when Hermione had work to do? She was Head Girl, after all! She had work to do! S.P.E.W. meetings to plan!

She decided to be polite yet cool.

"Look, I've work to do…see you around, yeah?

She turned her back and began fumbling in Malfoy's schoolbag. After pretending to fumble around for her Potions book that was far longer than necessary, she noticed Pansy was still on the bed.

"Pansy? Did you hear me?" she snapped.

Pansy sighed, extending her right leg nearly off the mattress so her body was neatly splayed. "Draco, darling, I was hoping we could…_talk_."

Hermione scowled. "I'm busy. Have to get top marks, or Father will flog me." OR whatever Mr. Malfoys did to make their sons terrified of them. She felt a bit sorry for Malfoy, actually.

Pansy drew herself upright, eyes blazing. "Draco, I came here—despite a _very_ busy schedule and _multiple_ invitations from a number of boys to go out today—just so I could see you. What's happened to you? Why don't you want me to spend the night anymore?"

"I'm too busy for a girlfriend, Pansy, you should see someone else."

"But I only want _you_, Draco. And after that night, not too long ago, I certainly felt that it was _you_ who wanted _me_ more, the way you kept telling me—"

Suddenly Hermione's annoyance turned to inexplicable fury. "No, Pansy! I don't want anything from you! Please, just leave me alone!"

Immediately she was by Hermione's side. "Draco," she said, concerned, "Are you crying?"

Humiliated, Hermione realized that her eyes were, in fact, stinging, a little. It was just that she was just so frustrated all the time nowadays.

At Pansy's soft touch on her shoulder—Draco's shoulder—Hermione sucked in a sharp breath and drew back immediately. "I want you to leave," she all but hissed, quietly. "I have issues to work out." That was her way of explanation. "And if you try to come back, I'll inform on you. I mean it. I don't love you, I was only using you." She paused. "For sex." Pansy, Hermione was pleased to note, had some self-pride and did not stick around after that. After suffering just one slap to the jaw, Hermione was free to go about her business. However, she couldn't seem to concentrate after that. She kept thinking of Pansy lying on Draco's bed, wanting him, as she'd probably done many times before, and her words about Draco wanting her as well.

_ Get a grip_, Hermione scolded herself. _You don't need to be thinking about that. Disgusting._ As she lay on her bed and opened her textbook, she was acutely aware of how comfortable Malfoy's pillow was. And how it smelled, just barely, of….something…she couldn't put her finger on it. Was it grass? No, but something else that smelled sensually earthy and slighty..Malfoy-ish. She sniffed more deeply.

"Well, well, Granger, I know you've never had a boyfriend, but I would expect you to come up with something more creative than a pillow to make out with."

She jumped out of her skin. As her mind was rapidaly processing Malfoy's words—was that a backhanded compliment?—she was mortified, rapidly blushing, and trying to explain herself.

"I j-just—you didn't—I was merely trying to—"

"Yes?"

"I was reviewing the lesson from today, and—"

"Mmhmm, and then I caught you sniffing my pillow, you prevent. Pillow-sniffer."

Hermione sat up straight. "I beg your pardon." They were lucky no one was in the room to hear them. "Listen, what are you doing here? Anyone could catch you!" Her eyes widened and the book was shut with a snap. "Oh Merlin!"

"What?

"You should be in the study room on the sixth floor! Now!"

"Hot date with your homework?" He rolled his eyes.

"Now, look, you have an S.P.E.W. Meeting—"

"Granger, I refuse to endorse your liberal bleedingheart crap."

She shot him a withering look. "I pity you sometimes, Malfoy, for having been raised a bigoted butthead."

"_Butthead_?"

Hermione held up a hand to silence him. "I'm not going to argue elves' rights with you today. You have to go and represent me today, because I'm the president. And I think people are already suspecting, you know, about us."

"In what way?"

"_Your_ behavior at Potions, with _Neville_, and Ernie Mac_Millan_ stopped me and said ridiculous things to me today about you and me—"

"Like what?"

"Like…like, well…I think he might have noticed our behavior is off." She looked away and gave a slight chuckled. "Actually, he thinks you might be interested in me—"

"Oh, _that's_ rich."

"Well of course it's ridiculous, because of our mutual dislike—"

"Me? Draco Malfoy? Be interested in a mudblood, and be attracted to Hermione Granger of all people?"

Hermione jumped off the bed. "As if _I_ would ever be interested in _you_!"

"You probably started that rumor, you'd love for someone like me to take an interest in you." He was just baiting her now.

But he was surprised when she didn't respond and add fuel to the fire. She sighed and fiddled with his pillow, carefully embroidered with his initials. "Okay. So. Ginny might show up at the meeting or she might be out with Blaise, so don't count on her presence. Ron will be there, of course, because he is the treasurer"

Draco snickered.

"What?"

"Funny that Weasley gets to be Treasurer. Bet he likes that."

"What are you talking about? I don't—oh, I get it. Would you kindly stop making jokes about Ron's financial situation!"

Then Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"You're jealous of Ron!"

Draco colored. "Weasel? That poor, stupid arse?"

"Yes, you're jealous of him! Why else would you make fun of him and harp on his lack of fortune all the time?"

"What could I possibly envy? His brain—or lack thereof—his stupid freckles, his miserable little house—"

"It's not that little," Hermione objected.

"It's like the Little Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. Not enough space for a family with too many runts."

"How do you know that muggle storybook?"

"Don't flatter your muggle heritage, Granger, it's a wizard's story. How do you think that many children could live in a big boot?"

"It wasn't a real story, Malfoy."

"Of course it was, you idiot. I thought every wizard or witch with half a brain knew that the Little Old Woman, was, in fact, Minerva McGonagall."

"_What_?" Hermione cried. Draco just smirked. "Malfoy, you're pulling my leg!"

"You still believed me."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did."

"That still doesn't explain how you know a muggle children's book."

I told you, it's not muggle. Tone down your hubris for your fellow mugglekind, Granger." Draco stopped in his train of thought. "What were we talking about before this?"

It took Hermione a minute to remember. "Ron."

"Oh, right. Weasley. And why I'm not jealous of him. Honestly, what could I really be jealous about?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Penis envy?"

"_What?_"

"Psychology term."

"Yes, I know, but having no real knowledge of Weasley's jollies, probably unlike yourself, how could I possibly envy them?"

"I'll ignore that bit about me."

"You mean it's _true_?" He said this with more feeling that he meant to. Well, it was just that the thought of her and Weasley was just...appalling.

"I'm neither going to confirm nor deny." (Actually she hadn't, but she wasn't about to tell Malfoy that nothing of the sort had happened.)

"That means you did it!" He practically accused her.

"It's not any of your business, I can't understand why you're always harping on Ron and me...really it's annoying and immature." She absentmindedly stroked her thigh, Malfoy's thigh that was, noticing how muscular it was, how firm. She was still so frustrated, and uncomfortable, and starting to feel a bit warm.

Suddenly there was a voice at the door.


End file.
